New play confronts the untamed damage of male trauma

REVIEW: 'No Man's Land' at Sherman Theatre, Cardiff

The title of No Man's Land - whose press night we attended last night (Wednesday 15 October) - suggests an unflinching theatrical journey through modern masculinity, and that is what's delivered.

It also suggests necessary psychological detachment or abandon in the face of pure horror, of wartime battlefields and 'going over the top' to face an enemy, a state of unknowable terrifying existential limbo.

The theme of conflict and violence is inescapable.This conflict is hyperactively embodied by Lew, our central character, who attempts to navigate through a dual Rhondda Valley.

There is one of reality, and the rugby club bar his mum runs, where he also works and speaks with customers.

And there is one of a confused dystopia that is No Man's Land, conjured in his head often through the cipher of XBox game Call Of Duty.

Lew launches himself around the stage like a computer game character, and writhes in deep anguish. 

Written by Rachel Trezise and directed by Matthew Holmquist, the engrossing psychological drama is said to represent the lived experience of co-producer Kyle Stead, who also plays the role of Lew.

The play contains subjects including sexual abuse and misogyny, as well as references to violence, homophobia, transphobia, all garnished with frequent and realistic strong language. No punches are pulled as the hour-long production builds to a climactic reveal of trauma.

Stead is the only actor to appear, but many different voices are heard. From Lew's mum and pivotal brother, to his younger self and older people with strongly entrenched views on sexuality who visit the rugby club. 

The mix and pace of these distinctly Rhondda voices underlines and exaggerates the sense of overwhelm and confusion that Lew fights with.

Through all the confusion and distortion, it remains clear that great value and pride is afforded to violence and the ability to fight. There is always a power and pride in violence and action, which words and language alone can't come close to matching. 

Stead's stop-motion physicality represents an excess of energy and anger that's impossible for him to regulate. His character rejects rugby and boxing. Hurling himself around in a fuzzy No-Man's Land warzone seems preferable.      

"You’ve got to get on with your life, Lew. Grudges won’t do you any good."

This advertising pull-quote hints at a Welsh take on the British stiff upper lip, or the dated yet often prevailing wind of 'keep calm and carry on'. But it also suggests the very identifiable condition of stuckness, anger, and resentment. As well as the harbouring of a big, secret, insidious grudge. 

There is ultimately a gruelling closing confrontation with a brutal truth. But how to manage it, the question seems to awkwardly and somewhat despairingly linger. How do we reconcile great horror and trauma?

There is an ideal of reconciliation, closure and neat endings that's forever hard to fully realise. The search for simple solutions is difficult, and the final lines simply speak to the continuing endurance of the human spirit. 

No Man's Land is a bold vision to open up and sustain the male mental health conversation in Wales, shining a light on areas outside the capital, where such conversations may feel more confronting. After an initial run in Cardiff, the show will head to Rhondda.

The Sherman Theatre and RCT Theatres production is supported by Arts Council of Wales and Platfform, with company and audience wellbeing support provided by Silence Speaks.

No Man's Land continues at the Sherman until Saturday (18 October) and is recommended for audiences of 16+. You can find out more and order tickets online here or from the box office on 029 2064 6900.

Review by Mark Hawkins

Photo: RCT Theatres

We received free tickets for this performance in exchange for an honest review